


Teeth of the Storm

by Maybethings



Series: May Be Promptin' [97]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Betrayal, Drabble, Gen, Prompt Fic, War, alternate POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-25
Updated: 2012-03-25
Packaged: 2017-11-04 00:59:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maybethings/pseuds/Maybethings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Generated prompt. Loghain/Garrett Hawke, brave my storm</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teeth of the Storm

It was the first time Garrett had seen a hero. He wasn’t impressed.

The tales painted a picture of a broody, lissome rogue, working in the shadows as Maric united the land. If His Majesty was the sun, a shining hound of Ferelden, then Loghain was a shadowy night sky, black and fox-like and claws where you least expect them. What he saw was an old and dour man, pushing them hard and not given to mincing words. He liked that part. But Carver also took a certain shine to Loghain, so he disliked everything else about the man on principle.

Just before the darkspawn clash, the sky went grey, then purple. Veins of lightning flickered across the firmament. The rain fell soft at first, then turned into a driving, roaring torrent. Garrett stood at the ready with the other men, heart rapping against his breastplate, waiting for the battle.

And then, with no fanfare, only the distant yell of Maric’s son drowned by the rain, it was upon them.

In the thick of battle, when the darkspawn were pressing them hardest, he swore he saw a beacon light in the old Tower of Ishal: a crown of flames defying the weather, as welcome as the morning light. It must have meant something, surely, but—nothing changed. Loghain was nowhere to be seen, in light or shadow.

Someone bashed into his shoulder. He whirled, the whites of his eyes visible all round—and an expletive slipping from his lips as he recognized his brother. Even Carver’s strong arms, the strongest arms in his world, were weary and slashed and stained with dark blood from knuckle to shoulder, his greatsword drooping to nearly graze the churned-up, muddy ground.

“We have to get back, warn Mother,” he gargled over the thunder, rain pooling at the corners of his mouth.

“For once, you make sense,” Garrett said, ignoring Carver’s scowl, and they turned from the darkspawn, death and destruction. In the chaos, they went unseen—as surely so many others did. The screams faded first, then the noises and smells. But Carver still shivered like a leaf all the way home.

This was one storm they could not weather.


End file.
